The Hooper Games
by thehoopergames
Summary: When Katniss Winterburn finds herself participating in The Hooper Games, she has no idea how she will cope. In The Hooper Games, she will have to defeat creatures such as the Dragon and the Chinfuk, never mind the Hoopitol...
1. The Hooper Games

This is _The Hooper Games_ - a _Hunger Games _FanFiction based on today's education. This is not meant to be an insult to anybody, but I don't recommend reading this unless you actually know me.

I'll upload a full cast list at some point.


	2. Chapter 1: Apparently, I Know Everybody

When I reach out my arm, the other side of my disgusting, broken bed is cold. Not because I'm single - oh no, I have two _incredibly_ dull love interests throughout this book to make this even more cliché than it already is. So, why am I cold? Well, we can't afford heating in District L26; damn, we can't afford heating - full stop. Bloody Hooper and her badly funded Hoopitol.

My name is Katniss Winterburn. I am sixteen years old, and this is a really bad way to start off a story. But who cares - it's not like anyone round here as ever taught me anything. The Hooptol's awful, but don't even get me started about Hooper High School. Seriously.

Now I need to make you feel sorry for me, right? My father's dead, my mum's apparently depressed (but we all know that Depression is never described accurately in Young Adult fiction) and my Scouse sister Prim now lives with Haymitch Burrows. (I really don't know what she sees in him, really.)

Now here is an incredibly boring scene in which I moan about how I am a peasant and that I have sacrificed everything to save Prim from Hooper High School. I might sound malnourished, but I actually look very healthy so that I can be a good role model for today's society. Although _no one _develops body image problems because of the media. (People who believe that are severely uneducated.)

I've just walked downstairs, and can I just mention the condition of the stairs? Real health and safety breach here. You'd think Hooper would sort it out, right? Hell no. Hooper can't do fuck all. It's quite funny - you'd think that someone in charge of something like the Hoopitol would be able to do _something _right. She's ruining the potential that we could have had, if we weren't fictional characters destined for a cliché ending.

Bloody Prim is sitting in the kitchen. I can only see the back of her and her damn dress. It just to be yellow, now it's black. You see, Prim's twelve and is going through a little bit of an emo phase, shall we say? 'Little' is an understatement. Anyway, Prim just happens to be over six foot tall, Scouse, and she looks nothing like me! We don't even have the same surname.

"Oi, Prim." I say.

Prim turns around. She's got this fucking fringe thing that covers around 90% of her face, apart from one exposed eye, One exposed eye that is red and puffy. The little fucktard has been smoking the weed we can't afford again. Brilliant.

"Go away, Katpiss, you can't control me. I'm twelve now," Prim flicks her fringe before saying: "#lame."

"#fuckoffthisismystory," I murmur. "#wannabe."

And now it's time for me to leave the house without breakfast because I am a peasant (remember to eat breakfast, kids) and introduce you to some more peasants, who I apparently know because it's convenient for the author. Of _course _I know everyone, it fills this chapter. I walk out of the incredibly small District L26 to the just as small District L17. We're not actually supposed to walk between districts, but because I'm the main character, I can do anything.

District L17 is where Cato Pennell, Clove Muirhead, Foxface Watts and Thresh Whelan live. It's also rumoured that Cinna Crawley likes to go there and eat paint from time to time. I don't get it either, don't worry. Last time I checked, Cinna was male and didn't have badly dyed hair. The last inhabitant of District L17 wasn't quite camp enough, so they brought in Cinna. Poor decision, I must say.

The first thing I see when I finally reach District L17 is Clove crying about Wi-Fi again. Who the fuck is Wi-Fi anyway? Is he hot? I hear some people have a really strong connection with Wi-Fi. Sometimes he's free. Woah, Wi-Fi's dirtier than Swallace, that orange prostitute who went on a killing spree. (She used to live in District L17 too. This story wasn't planned out very well, I must say.)

They're always crying in District L17 - I think it might be Cinna Crawley's fault. Rumour has it that Cinna can't really do much apart from make really shit collages, or force people to make then for him. Or her; I can't actually remember.

"Hey," I say limping over to where Clove is sobbing.

"What are you doing here?" snaps Clove through her uncontrollable tears. "Shouldn't you be stopping that Prim of yours from doing the do with that Haymitch?"

"Prim's twelve! She wouldn't do that!"

"She's not twelve; she's a twelvie."

"What does that even mean?"

Giving me an incredibly disappointed look, Clove walks away. Gosh, my fictional life is so hard.

"Hey." says a voice. Apparently "Hey." is the only greeting round here.

I turn round, my crappy plait thing hitting me in the face. Wow, the hair and makeup department are ridiculous. My father will hear of this! ...Hang on. He's dead.

Cato Pennell is standing in front of me, holding a pencil and a notebook in his hands.

"Hey," I say. "What's in that notebook?"

"Oh, um, you _really _don't want to know." Cato says, blushing.

"No, I do! I do, I do, I do!" I plead. God, my voice is irritating. "I _really _want to know."

"Katniss."

Cato's voice is very serious for the first time in his life, which obviously means I need to see the book, because it contains important information about how I can take down the Hoopitol and grow as many chins as Chinfuk.

"Give it here!" I shout, reaching for the book.

"Oi, no - Katniss!" Cato falls over, the notebook tumbling out of his hands, almost like how I imagine Hooper's good ideas to fall out of her wrinkly head.

"Haha!" I say. "Mine now!"

"Katniss, do not open the-"

Oh my God. Can I even say that without offending anybody? On the first page of the notebook is something that I never, ever wanted to see. Ever. Something dirty and disgusting. No, not President Snove's dick pics. It's a picture of Prim...with Haymitch. I recoil in horror.

"Katniss, I told you not to look in the notebook..."

"I can't believe it!"

I close the book. It turns out that looking at Haymitch's graphite penis is not as fun as it should be. Cato gave Prim a penis too... Oh, couldn't I have been the Strong Female Lead in Divergent instead?

"Cato, I am disgusted by this. How can Prim have a better sex life than me? I'm the one who will be in a stupid love angle!"

"Just be glad you didn't turn over the page," Cato says as he wrestles the book out of my hands.

"I'm leaving," I say, storming off.

I don't feel like I am describing my surroundings enough. District L17 smells like paint, aerosols and farts. There's still that faint stench of fake tan from when Swallace used to be here. Due to the bad set design, there are collages hanging from the fucking trees. The bright, blue sky is littered with splashes of paint instead of the light, fluffy clouds that embrace the other skies around the Hoopitol.

On my way out of District L17, which I must leave after describing, I can see Foxface getting weirdly excited over limes. Ew, it's like she has a fetish or something. If only she put that much work in to sorting out her hair and getting rid of the fucking spots she's had for at least four years now.

Oh, I'm so lonely now that I've left District L17 without actually walking out of it. If only I had another boring, cliché character to hang out with...

"Hey there, Katniss."

Gale Winterburn sits down next to me on a bench that I didn't actually sit down on. He is holding a fishing rod and a packet of biscuits.

"Hey," I whinge. "You've got _biscuits."_

"Yeah, and you have a vagina," Gale opens his packet of biscuits and takes a biscuit before sinking his teeth in to it. His teeth are surprisingly white, considering that we can't afford toothpaste. "We all want what we can't have."

"You really are taking the fucking biscuit." I wipe the slimy biscuit crumbs off my poor, peasant face.

I've known Gale longer than I've known Prim, because Gale is the same age as me, obviously. For some reason, I have the same surname as him. Plus, his dad died in a muffin man related incident too.

"Gale, I want a biscuit."

"No, let me tell you what you really, really want."

"Ziggerzigar?"

"What?"

"Google it, you uncultured tampon!"

"Right... Um... Anyway," Gale pauses. "You really want to escape Hooper High School this year."

"What?" (This is the point in the story where things get mildly interesting.)

"The Creeping's tomorrow."

"Fuck." The last thing I need right now is Dawson and Smith and their Creeping. I'm shivering, and that's not because of the lack of heating. The Creeping is called The Creeping for a reason.

"Seriously, Katniss," Gale continues. "I heard they are bringing in a House system this year."

"I don't know what that is," I say. "But it's making me feel sick already."

"Students will have to wear stupid multi-coloured ties for no actual reason."

"Oh God. Gale, it can't possibly get any worse, can it?"

"Oh yes." Gale tells me. "They might even be bringing in something called the Hooper Way."

"What does that even mean?" I exclaim. "All Hooper ever does is ignore the fact that the Hoopitol and Hooper High School have incredibly low funding."

"Maybe that's what the students will have to do."

"Well, _I_ won't be doing anything." I argue.

"Maybe _that_'s the Hooper Way."

I feel like Gale is being quite a difficult love interest today. When does he declare his undying love for me?

"Gale, what if Prim gets chosen at the Creeping?"

"Don't worry, Prim will be fine." says Gale. "She's more male than I am."

"But Gale, you don't understand! I sacrificed my Joules to stop Prim from being chosen!"

"They might be renaming Joules too, you know." Gale sighs. "Prim would be fine anyway. Rawson and Smith wouldn't want to go near him... I mean her..."

"Why not? I thought being emo was cool these days."

"That yellow dress is totes two half-terms ago."

"Um, actually, Prim doesn't even wear yellow now. She says that she's a true emo and that it's not a phase. You know, like you said when you were twelve."

Gale blushes. "At least when I was twelve, I didn't hang around with that Haymitch Burrows, if you know what I mean."

"What the hell is it with you guys and Prim and Haymitch?" I shout.

"Repetition is good in YA Fiction, apparently." Gale replies. "Look, Thresh is sparkling."

It turns out that Thresh Whelan is sat right next to me. But because I'm a YA Fiction Main Character, I'm about as intelligent as your local orange slut. (Mine was Swallace before she went crazy, in case you were wondering.)

"Oh, hello Thresh." I say. "Which painfully dumb book character have you come as today?"

"Edward Cullen." Thresh sounds about as impressed as I do whenever someone mentions Prim and Haymitch's non-existent relationship.

"You could be Bella Swan at the Creeping." I suggest.

"Yeah," Thresh answers. "Being predictable is apparently very popular these days, especially in YA Fiction."

"I guess I should go and be more predictable," I say. "This chapter sucks enough already."

"Yeah," Thresh agrees. "Awful pacing. It seems like you can't hold a conversation for more than a hundred or so words. "

"Surreal burrito!" shouts a distant voice from District L17 that almost definitely belongs to Clove. "Ayyy lmao!"


	3. Chapter 2: PrayForKatniss

As the theme to Rebecca Black's Friday screams out of the mobile phone that I don't actually have, I fall out of bed. (Hey, you could make a gif out of that. Get 50,000 notes on Tumblr for it, and you can have my vagina before Peeta gets it.)

"Ouch," I grumble, rubbing my elbow. Did my elbow actually hit the floor? I don't actually know. "Another injury that we'll all have forgotten about once I've left the room."

"I haven't forgotten yesterday," says Prim, who just happens to be sitting on the end of her bed. Her legs are together for the first time in ages. I notice that she's wearing sunglasses.

"Smoking weed again?"

"Gosh, Katpiss," Prim flips her goddamn fringe. "You just don't understand!"

"Why wouldn't I understand?" I ask. "I am the _perfect _role model for today's teenage society! I understand _everything_!"

"Um, you're just an innocent little virgin!"

"So are you, right? You're twelve!"

"No, I'm not!" Prim almost smiles, which, y'know, it a big thing for someone as totally emo as Prim. "You know where I was yesterday!"

"Primrose Egan!" I scream. "Do not tell me that Haymitch put his dong anywhere near your dong hole!"

"I was with Peeta too," Prim says. "#PrimpennyFTW."

#PrayForKatniss.

"At least now I know what he does with that bread."

"Actually, all that kneading has made him rather good with his hands..." Prim murmurs, then raises her voice to say: "Actually, I think that was quite inappropriate."

"Inappropriate? Like Haymitch fucking you?"

"I think I'm going to go now," Prim says in this kind of sassy voice, as if she has something to say that might actually be relevant. "#bye."

I just watch as Prim and her fringe walk away. I say walk, I mean stamp - Prim thinks that stamping is totally emo (I think it's totally stupid).

"Katpiss!" screams Prim as soon as she's out of sight. Ugh, I thought Prim and her fringe had left. "There's a guy with a notebook in the kitchen!"

"My name's Cato, you inbred tampon!"

Oh fuck.

You see, Cato Pennell is not a bad person. Cato's great. The thing is, Cato's also surprisingly good at drawing anything slightly pornographic.

"Ask him to leave, Prim!" I shout back. "You've seen enough dick!"

"Katpiss!" screams Prim again. "Get down here!"

Do I want to protect my sister? My sister, who everyone thinks is actually a brother? Prim, and her goddamn fringe? Of course I do! Well, I don't really. I just don't want her running to Haymitch's dick, if you know what I mean.

"Coming!" I shout, running down the stairs, which crumble under my weight. Cato sniggers. There is indeed a guy with a notebook in the kitchen.

"Hey, Katniss." he says, as he sees me in the doorway. "Look at the table."

"Do I _want_ to look at the table?" I ask.

"Yes." Cato looks at the table, then looks at me. "Trust me."

"I...I'm not sure if I want to trust you."

"You should trust me. Anyway, you'll have to look at the table at some point. Your mother will be back from that crazy prostitute party soon."

"Which crazy prostitute party?" I wonder.

"You know, that one that Swallace used to lead." Cato replies.

"Oh yeah."

"Actually," Prim says. "I don't think Katpiss _should _look at the table. You see, she doesn't have much experience with dick. You should have drawn it, um, gradually."

"If you think about it, I _did _draw it gradually."

"Ooh, you smartass." I say.

"I don't think, okay?!" yells Prim. "Totally not emo!"

"You definitely didn't think when you got that haircut." answers Cato.

"Cato, I think you're slowly becoming my favourite person!" I say, then smile.

"Actually, Katniss, you're not meant to lvoe me. Save your love for Peeta and Gale."

"Gale couldn't even give me a biscuit yesterday," I argue. "How is he supposed to give me the D?"

"Heh." says Cato. "D." (I didn't think 'heh' was a word, personally. But what do I know?)

"Haymitch's wife got a D in Geography." Prim tells me.

"Haymitch has a wife?!" I exclaim.

"For the purpose of this totally useless and not emo scene, yes."

"Are you kidding? My excessive and slightly obsessive penis drawings are vital in this dumb book!" Cato claims.

"Excessive and slightly obsessive penis drawings? Never!" I say sarcastically.

"Look at the goddamn table." Cato says.

"Ugh, fine." My tired eyes gaze deeply at the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a penis. A penis, drawn in smudgy black ink with quite a lot of detail, to be honest. And then about fifty more, drawn at all sorts of different angles.

"Great, yes?" Cato looks at me, his eyes almost begging me to say yes.

"I suppose they are yes," I say.

"Katpiss, you don't even know what a penis looks like."

"I do!" I protest. "They look like that!" I point at the table.

"Okay, okay!" Cato's voice rises above mine and Prim's. "We need to go to the Creeping now."

"Oh God," I say. "Prim, bring some form of protection with you."

"Protection?" Prim asks.

"You know what I mean, you dirty-minded twelvie."

I _hate _the Creeping. If I wanted to be surrounded by creeply almost elderly men, I'd hang around Victor's Village everyday. Basically, Dawson and Smith pick however many people between the ages of 11 and 16 to attend Hooper High School for a year. Hooper High School is run by Effie Hooper. Effie Hooper is a bitch with no respect for anyone but herself, and all her ideas are crap. Some say that Hooper High would be a thousand times better without Hooper. Of course, Effie Hooper isn't the only person who makes Hooper High as bad as it is. There's President Snove, the man behind all of the Hoopitol and similar places. Snove's ideas are just as bad as Hooper's and sometimes even worse. There are also two gamesmakers who work at Hooper High called Seneca Winters and Plutarch Thomas. We can't tell whether they're on our side or not half the time.

Cato, Prim and I walk out of my house. Cato still has his notebook and pen, of course. Prim's fringe is now covering her face even more than usual. I'm just stood here hoping that this story will be interesting at some point. #PrayForKatniss

"Come on," says Cato. "You don't even want to think about what we'll get if we're late."

"The D?" I say, as we start to walk to the Creeping.

"I think it will be something worse than that." whispers Cato.

"You know, Hooper High School can't be _that_ bad," Prim says. "I mean, it's a mess, but it could be worse."

"You've clearly never been there," Cato tells Prim. "It's bad."

"Cato, _you've _never been there."

"Katniss, I know more about Hooper High than your uneducated little twelvie sister. Trust me, it's terrible."

"I know it's terrible. There's chewing gum and bits of pizza everywhere."

"Pizza?" Prim sounds weirdly excited.

"Yeah, it tastes like shit. Literal shit. Sorry," Cato says to Prim.

"Is there anything good at Hooper High School?" Prim asks.

"Um, I don't know. Is there, Katniss?"

"I think it was alright before Hooper came, but I don't really know. My interests don't include education."

"I wish President Snove's interests didn't include education. We'd all be better off then," says Cato, as we walk past Greasy Hardy's store thing.

"Hello!" shouts Greasy Hardy. "Get your condoms and alcohol here!"

"Condoms?!" squeals Prim, starting to run over. I have to physically restrain her.

"Alcohol?!" squeals a slightly deeper and less Scouse voice. It's Haymitch's voice.

"Oi, you little bitch!" I scream. "Come here!"

"Katniss, don't..." says Cato and I run over to Haymitch.

"You disgusting motherfucker!" I shout. "How dare you fuck my sister!"

"I'm not the only person who has fucked your sister!" Haymitch shouts back.

"Don't lie to me!" I scream. "I know everything!"

"Actually, Katniss, sorry to break it to you, but you don't know everything. Silly virgin."

"UGH!" I scream, then walk off. Some peasants just aren't worth my time.

"Katniss, we're going to be late!" shouts Cato.

"I'm coming!" I shout back, walking back to where Cato and Prim are standing. Prim is blushing behind her fringe.

"No you're not!" Haymitch yells.

"Ignore him," says Cato, as I finally reach him and Prim.

"It's hard to ignore that waist size," I say. "Jesus Christ."

Cato looks at the watch that he doesn't actually have. "Five minutes until the Creeping."

Suddenly, a massive burrito falls from the sky and lands beside Cato. Clove is sat inside it on her phone.

"Look!" calls Clove, even though we're now stood right next to her. "The surreal burrito has come to take you to the Creeping!"

"How the holy tit is a _burrito _supposed to take us to the Creeping in less than five minutes?" I ask.

"Oh, this isn't any old burrito. This is a _surreal_ burrito. It can fly." Clove rips off a bit of the burrito and eats it. "Yum. Surreal."

"Is it safe for us to get inside the burrito?" asks Cato.

"The real question is: is it safe for the burrito to get inside _you?_" Clove sniggers.

Nevertheless, Cato, Prim and I climb inside the burrito.

"Remember: the burrito will always be there to take you anywhere!" Clove now sounds like a camp man.

The burrito takes off, and I'm just sitting here, totally confused. I just don't understand how good this burrito is. If only Hooper's ideas were this good!

"So, um, that's a thing that we're flying over right now." says Clove, and we all look down. "Damn, I'm such a crap tour guide."

"That's a thing," mocks Cato. "Jesus Christ, Clove."

"You're not allowed to say 'Jesus' in the BurritoMobile, gosh Cato." scolds Clove. "Anyway, be quiet. I'm driving, you fucktards."

"So you're allowed to swear but not say Jesus?"

"Calm your tits, Cato!" says Clove. "No, hang on. Calm your penis, Cato."

"That's more like it." says Cato. "Actually, that makes it sound like I have an erection. There's nothing round here to make my dick tingle."

"Not even this burrito?" exclaims Clove.

"No," answers Cato. "I don't identify as burritosexual."

"Is that even a thing?" I ask.

"Of course," says Cato. "#BurritosexualRights2014."

"You know how Chinfuk married a chin?" I say.

"Yes?"

"Does that mean she's Chinsexual?" I ask.

"Probably," say Cato and Clove in unison.

"Remember kids," Cato continues. "It's perfectly okay to identify as anything. We won't judge you here."

"Damn," I say. "This book is turning out to be so much more educational than I planned! Anything else that we'd like to tell our young, impressionable audience?"

"Yes," says Clove worriedly. "Never, ever travel to the Creeping in a burrito."

"Why not?" I ask.

There's this massive bang and crash, and a load of salad slaps me in the face. I can feel little bits of burrito in my hair as I rush to fix it because my hair is more important than the burrito.

"OH MY GOD GUYS!" screams Clove. "My phone! It's broken!"

"You dickwad," mutters Cato, emerging from the broken remains of the burrito. "Hey Katniss, where's Prim?"

"I don't know." I say. "Oi, Prim."

I climb out of the broken burrito and look around. I can't see Prim or her fringe.

"Oi, Prim! Where are you?" I shout.

"Haven't you got better things to worry about?" says a voice from behind me. "You've just crashed in to the Hoopitol."

I turn around. Effie Hooper is standing there, her white hair - exactly the same colour as cum - almost glowing in the sparse sunlight. She's wearing another one of those fucking boring suits as well.

"You'll _all_ be in The Hooper Games this year, darlings."


	4. Chapter 3: Finnick and Annie!

p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Books are supposed to be educational, right? I've heard that, at Hooper High, all they do is 'teach' using books. Irrelevant, useless textbooks. Kind of like President Snove, actually. Useless./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"If this book is supposed to be educational, then I'd like to 'teach' you a few things./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"1. Don't ever ride a surreal burrito./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"2. Don't ever crash in to the Hoopitol. (Or go anywhere near it, but that's a different story.)/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"3. Don't lose your emo twelvie sister outside the Hoopitol./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"4. Don't./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"You see, I'm now stood with Cato, Clove and the little bits of burrito that are still stuck in my hair. We're stood right in front of the Hoopitol's stage, where my least favourite person - Effie Fucking Hooper - is standing, her dumb personalised microphone resting in her wrinkly hands./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Welcome to the third annual Hooper Games!" she yells./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"I sigh. The crowd of spotty teenagers around me cheer sarcastically./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Every July, poor preteen and teenage representatives from the many, many districts are selected to spend a year at the beautiful, chewing gum-ridden Hooper High School."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Another cheer, as Hooper prepares to speak again./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Then our terribly lucky representatives will spend July and August training to spend the best 10 and a half months of their life at Hooper High School."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Hooper smiles sickeningly at the crowd, her bright pink lips revealing a set of crooked, yellow teeth. You can now see how proud she is of her disgusting little 'empire'. She loves it, the slimy bitch with no respect for anyone but herself./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Behind her, Dawson and Smith scuttle on to the stage like pervy mice. Dawson is more of a cabbage than a mouse, to be honest. Damn, authors are stupid./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Ah, look," Hooper turns around, and her voice increases by about sixteen octaves. "It's time for the Creeping!"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"The entire crowd moves back about a mile. If we were any closer, we'd be able to smell the tuna sandwich Dawson ate last week./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""You don't have to be scared," says Dawson. He really does sound like a cabbage. "Well, the people who won't be in the Hooper Games this year don't have to be."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Smith sniggers. He is so much creepier than Dawson, and has been arrested for doing the do with kids at least 69 times. I wouldn't ever go anywhere near him, even if it meant that I'd never have to be in the Hooper Games. The things that he has some are so horrible and wrong that they would make you feel sick. Seriously./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Dawson!" he shouts. "Bring on the random selector!"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"The random selector. About as popular as Hooper and Snove. The best friend of many, but the worst enemy of many more. We all groan as the random selector waddles on to the screen. Not in a sexual way of course, Jesus Christ, that's what Smith does with kids.../p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "So we've put all of your names in to this random selector," says Dawson, then he sighs. "You know what, fuck this. I've spent way too much time in the shadow of people who are just as talentless as me. Bring on someone else, I can't be arsed."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Dawson scuttles off stage, much to the horror of Smith, who gallops after him. Slowly, we shuffle closer to the stage again. Hooper suddenly looks lost./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Well, I...I... I don't think I can pretend not to be the world's biggest twat much longer," she says. "Where are, um, Finnick and Annie?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Fucking somewhere!" screams someone from the crowd. Sounds like Foxface./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""You're not meant to know that," snarls Hooper./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Out of nowhere, Finnick and Annie appear. Finnick looks a lot like Prim, just without the fringe. I feel a twinge of guilt as I am reminded of my sister - the missing emo twelvie. Prim and Finnick have the same surname, build, and strange voice./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Annie barely reaches Finnick's shoulders. She's short, but very slim and very pretty. I've never met anyone as timid and shy as Annie - she likes to hide away and not be seen./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Finnick and Annie won the last Hooper Games, and Annie swore she'd never get involved with the Hoopitol again. She managed to escape the Hoopitol, and find refuge in a much better place. Now she's back. Couldn't live without Finnick, probably./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Here are the victors of the second Hooper Games - Finnick Egan and Annie Hine!" says Hooper in to her microphone. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bully and humiliate innocent children."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Hooper walks off stage, leaving Finnick and Annie alone. They have no idea what they're supposed to be doing./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""So, we heard that there are a few people who have already been selected to participate in this year's Hooper Games," says Finnick. "Would they like to, um, come here?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"I glance at Clove and Cato./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""That's us," whispers Clove, and Cato and I follow her to the stage./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"As we reach the stage, Annie gives us all a hug and whispers "I am so sorry!" in to our ears./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Standing on the stage is very weird. I can see Thresh's Bella Swan costume - it's great. He's even mimicking her favourite facial expression, the stroke face./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""I thought that maybe you three could pick the rest of the students," says Finnick, to both us and the crowd./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Oh God!" I say, giggling./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""That's me," Clove interjects, making the whole audience laugh nervously./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Who would you like to put in to the Hooper Games this year then, God?" asks Annie./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Clove scans the crowd. "How many can I choose?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Let's say two, for now," Finnick replies./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""I choose Beetee Seaton and Thresh Whelan!" Clove shouts./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"I can almost hear Thresh's disappointment, but Beetee seems quite pleased to be spending more time with Clove. They're like Finnick and Annie, only Beetee and Clove have accepted their relationship./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Cato, who would you like to choose?" asks Annie, as Beetee and Thresh reach the stage./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Foxface Watts and Johanna Gristwood," answers Cato, almost immediately./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Aw, great, now I get to see the two lovebirds in action!" I hear Foxface say./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""We're not in a relationship!" Finnick and Annie yell in unison./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""We all know you are!" Foxface calls back, waddling on to the stage, Johanna following. Johanna looks really, really pissed off./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Katniss," says Annie. "Who would you like to choose?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"I turn to face the crowd. There aren't any faces which jump out at me, they're all the same - sad and drained because of Hooper. We're like ghosts of the children we used to be. There were times when we used to smile and laugh and have fun. But now? Hooper has taken all of that away from us. Now we're like Foxface without Diet Soda, or Cato without his penis drawings, or Finnick without Annie./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"We've seen Finnick without Annie. When she ran away, after winning the Hooper Games, Finnick fell in to a bad place. He started to drink away his problems with Haymitch, and they became joined at the hip. (And other places too, if the rumours are true...)/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Katniss?" says Annie./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""I choose Peeta Winpenny and Gale Winterburn, my future love interests," I reply./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Gale genuinely looks gutted. He really, really wanted to avoid the Hooper Games this year, but I have a little business that I need to do with him. Peeta doesn't give a fuck, as usual, but Finnick doesn't look very impressed either./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Why don't you pick the next person, Annie?" Finnick suggests./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Annie looks terrified. "Oh...um...I choose..." she pauses. "I don't know...Glimmer Rawcliffe."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Glimmer!" Glimmer shouts, then walks on to the stage, dragging Marvel Paddon with her./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Marvel and Glimmer are both flame haired, only Marvel is more of a forest fire, and Glimmer is a safety match./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Are you going to choose anyone, Finnick?" Annie wonders./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Yes," Finnick replies, searching through the crowd. "Foxface Watts!"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""What?" Foxface exclaims./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Be quiet, Wiress," says Finnick. "Come on, Foxface!"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Um, Finnick," Annie interjects. "That's Wiress Jones you're pointing at, not Foxface Watts."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Thanks," Finnick answers. "Come along anyway, Wiress!"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Wiress, slightly annoyed at Finnick's ignorance and stupidity, walks on to the stage. People are always getting Wiress and Foxface confused, even Haymitch Burrows and Seneca Winters. Even though Wiress and Foxface look nothing like each other./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Time to pick our last two students!" Annie announces. "Peeta, why don't you choose?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Peeta looks a bit startled. No one really speaks to him, especially Finnick. Peeta's only friend is his bread./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Rue Cotton and Greasy Hardy," he says./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Greasy Hardy," whispers Finnick. "What sort of name is that?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""I don't know," Hooper answers, as she walks on to the stage too. "And that concludes the Creeping. Our students will now be taken to train, isn't that right, Annie?"/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"Annie nods. She is already regretting coming back, and doesn't look particularly happy as she follows Finnick backstage./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Annie?" I say, and she turns round. "Why did you come back? You had everything at your new place."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""It wasn't that good," Annie replies. "It might sound great, but..."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""But Finnick wasn't there with her," Foxface interrupts as she walks past, her hair a frizzy mess emagain/emem. "/emYou and I both know what they liked to do in their spare time."/p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Some things never change," Annie mutters, as soon as Foxface is out of earshot./p  
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;""Yeah," I agree. "Hooper High is always going to be shit. Like this fucking story."/p 


End file.
